Helen (English!)
by MariaSchneeWittchen
Summary: Helen fic's translation. Chapter 8 UP! Please, leave reviews for JennaLe and for me. 1000 thanks to JennaLe for the translation!
1. Vorspiel

**This chapter is translated by Jenna Le (u/5386982/)**

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1. Vorspiel

I was dejectedly cleaning the small windows of the dilapidated barracks when some rays of sun reached my face. I looked and there it was, rising well above the barbed wire and electrified fence, illuminating all the prisoners who were working tirelessly, and shining in the snow that covered the entire work camp. The Nazis had taken away our money, business and houses. For some including me, they'd separated us from our families. Now they detained us in a hell where people died from hunger and execution. I had a foreboding that my people were condemned, and each day, we had less hope of survival.

Aleksandra Kenner came running and said my name. When I turned around, she slowly approached me and shook her head. I felt as her hands approached my frozen cheekbones.

- You're very pale and weak, Helen…look how you tremble. I hope you don't get sick. Every day I'm afraid for you – she said like a mother would say to a daughter.

Aleksandra pinched my cheeks to give them some color, and without giving me any further explanation began to drag me by the arm. She pulled me out of the barracks and began to run through the thick snow.

- We have to hurry! I've heard that the Herr Kommandant Goeth is looking for servants for his new villa. I hope that he picks us, Helen. We'd still be working and it wouldn't be easy, but we'd be safer. If he asks you something or looks at you, smile. You're very pretty and have a perfect smile.

Her words were full of hope but they unsettled me a bit. I'd already heard that name. Yes, two men had been talking about "Herr Kommandant Goeth." They said he was the head of Plaszow and they related that he was a cruel and heartless man who had murdered many people in the Warsaw Ghetto. I'd seen and heard enough things to believe these words and couldn't help but feel afraid.

Aleksandra continued to pull me toward a line of women and she put us at the front. She let go of my hand and I stopped running at her pace, but an enormous soldier shoved me abruptly so that I wouldn't stop. I passed by two perfectly uniformed SS men in elegant leather coats. Then that soldier made us stop and separated us at rifle point so that he could see us well.

- There they are, Herr Kommandant!

The one who was the tallest and appeared to be the highest raking reacted. He was smoking at the same time as as he lifted a handkerchief to his nose in irritation. He began to walk along the line and when I felt silence and dread seize the air in their wake, I lowered my gaze to the snow. The snow reached to my ankles and, after all that running, had gotten inside my shoes. The desperate sensation of bitter cold and the numbness of my extremities made me breathe hard and shake silently.

- One of you is a very lucky girl – he said in a cruel voice – There is an opening for a job, away from all this backbreaking work, at my new villa – I heard his footsteps very close by and felt as if he stopped in front of me.

To my relief, after a pause, he returned to the middle of the line to look at all of us while speaking again.

- Which of you has domestic experience? -

I came from an upper class Jewish family and had never cooked nor done household chores except for pleasure. From the terrifying aura that that man gave off, I thought it best not to lie, and I let my hands warm up inside my coat. All the other women in the line appeared to not be in the same situation and raised their hands, including Aleksandra.

- Ja, – he said with a discontented voice and returned to the area where I was. – On second thought I don't really want someone else's maid. All those annoying habits I have to undo. -

He stopped in front of me and made a gesture. I timidly approached him but he backed away.

- I don't want to give you my cold – he said softly. – What's your name? -

- Helen Hirsch, - I answered him. I was frightened and trembling so that my voice was barely audible.

- What? – he asked quite annoyed.

- Helen Hirsch, - I repeated again but he coughed deeply and it covered my words.

- What? I can't hear. -

I made another effort to raise my voice and say my name while lifting up my gaze. Blue eyes, big and very cold pierced me and chilled my blood. They were accompanied by a half smile that wasn't totally perverse. With the hand that grasped the handkerchief, he opened my coat at the shoulders. The only things visible were my hands, trembling from the cold. I remembered the words Aleksandra had said and tried to make something resembling a smile. He became serious all of a sudden and gave me a strange look, then looked away from my face and informed a German with a monosyllable that he had chosen me.

A sense of relief came over me at knowing I could work less hard and that perhaps my chances of living had been extended. It no longer mattered to me that I didn't have a lot of experience and I was grateful toward him thinking that he couldn't be so horrible a man.

- To work! – an SS officer imperiously commanded.

The entire line of prisoners ran upon hearing the order to return to their respective occupations and I imitated them, but the enormous soldier who had shoved me before crossed my path. I crashed into him and fell to the ground.

- Not you, Jew! You stay here! –

I got up slowly from the ground in pain, and agreed with my head that I would stay on my feet right there.

While I was wrapping myself up in my coat, I observed out of the corner of my eye that the man who previously had chosen me had gone to inspect the area in which they were constructing a barracks. An irritated officer walked toward him and started to give an explanation.

- She says the foundation was poured wrong. She's got to take it down. I told her that it's a barracks, not the fucking Hotel Europa! Fucking Jew bitch engineer! -

The woman he was insulting came running and stood in the midst of all those uniformed men who partially ignored her.

- Herr Kommandant! - she directed at him while the officer behind her snorted in irritation - The entire foundation has to be torn down and repoured. If not, there will be at least a subsidence at the southern end of the barracks. Subsidence and then collapse. -

- You are an engineer? – he asked with an unfeeling and incredulous tone.

- Yes. My name is Diana Reiter. I'm a graduate of civil engineering from the University of Milan.

She explained herself reasonably and seemed very sure of what she was saying, but he ridiculed her, making the others laugh as well. He then walked a few steps away from her and his comrades in order to look at the barracks up close.

- Unterstürmfuhrer, - he said, calling the officer to meet with him separately.

- Jawohl! - the officer answered walking toward him.

- Shoot her. -

The order was given in a low voice but the climate of the scene changed instantly and anyone could have been able to guess what was about to happen. I felt a lump in my throat and chills all over. The woman, shocked and disconcerted, looked around in all directions. The officer also exchanged a look with her, nervous and confused.

- Herr Kommandant, I am only trying to do my job.

- Ja, - he replied coldly - I'm doing mine. -

- Sir, she's foreman of construction – said the officer incredulously, his expression reflecting that he was not in agreement with the idea of killing her.

- We're not going to have arguments with these people – he said indifferently.

The officer walked toward her and grabbed her arm to take her to a more secluded spot.

- No, shoot her here on my authority – the Herr Kommandant yelled at him.

The fear in the face of that woman, who was at the point of crying while those men decided the place in which to kill her, made my heart cringe and made it difficult to breathe the cold air. I understood that man was indeed cruel and I stopped feeling fortunate that he had chosen me.

"She could be me," I thought looking at the dense snow beneath my feet.

When I timidly looked upon the scene again, she was already kneeling in front of the officer who had his pistol drawn. The sound of the shot echoed in my head and left me paralyzed.

There she was, motionless and dead. I couldn't stop looking at her, try as I might to avoid it.

He turned away after contemplating the murder with satisfaction, and I just wanted to disappear when I felt him approach the area where I was. Fortunately, he was distracted speaking with the grave officer beside him.

- Take it down. Repour it. Rebuild it. Like she said, - he ordered.

He passed right by me and ignored me. I only felt safe when I heard him get in a car that had arrived and that the engine had started to take him away from there.


	2. Die rote Villa

**This chapter is translated by Jenna Le (u/5386982/)**

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It didn't take long to build the enormous villa where I was going to work. It was situated at the highest point of the work camp, and from there one could catch a clear glimpse of it. Every time I looked at it, I felt an unpleasant sensation in my stomach. I kept wondering what would happen to me when the Germans discovered that I didn't know my way around the kitchen. I already knew that with these men, mistakes cost dearly.

Such was my worry that I asked for help from one of the female prisoners who had been a cook before ending up in Plaszow. Luckily she gave me a stained, wrinkled, old book written in Hebrew that nonetheless contained a lot of recipes and was useful. I always carried it with me, and the day that an SS soldier barged into my barracks and made me move to to the villa, I kept it hidden under my coat.

I walked up toward the enormous villa with difficulty due to the snow while the soldier pushed me to make me hurry when I wasn't going at a fast enough pace. Instead of leading me to the front, we skirted along the edges of the villa and walked across a small garden to the back door, where we stopped. The soldier, without saying a word, grabbed me by the arm and forced me into the kitchen, closing the door behind me.

After a few minutes I managed to calm down, and thought it best to prepare breakfast without losing any time. I tried to memorize where the spices were shelved and food stored, and I put them in order and figured out a way to light a fire. I was, from the outset, very careful, efficient and clean. I had a foreboding that my work could be a test.

A very deep silence reigned over the house, but it didn't take me long to realize that I wasn't the only prisoner here. While I was cooking, I could see a pair of people who also had work to do moving quickly and quietly. I came to the conclusion that German with military power, the one that everyone called Herr Kommandant had a retinue of slaves of which I was one.

While I was making sure breakfast wouldn't get cold, a woman who also wore a Star of David on her shoulder entered the kitchen. I greeted her, trying to introduce myself, but she was startled and put her finger up to her lips indicating that I was speaking very loudly. Then she ignored me and took the dishes I had prepared. Her fear of speaking to me brought back memories of the murdered woman.

I continued to be locked up in the kitchen, assuming with resignation that my role would be to be there all day long. A few hours later, the same woman who had served breakfast appeared and informed me what the Herr Kommandant liked for lunch and dinner. I barely could memorize half of the dishes. They had, for the most part, German names. Before leaving me alone, she also told me to prepare a lot for dinner because he was expecting guests, and I put myself to work. I remembered the words of Aleksandra; I had to admit that in this house it would be more difficult for me to become sick or die from a gunshot.

When it began to get dark and the snowflakes froze on the windowsill, deep and masculine German voices filled the house. I could barely hear them clearly except when they laughed in unison or were singing some song, and I rightly suspected they were from the SS.

The woman who was in charge of serving and who hadn't dared introduce herself reentered in a flash. She saw the plates that were already ready for her to take, and before leaving she turned toward me to whisper that she thought I had made a lot of food. I felt relieved because I'd been afraid that there wouldn't be enough. It gave me time to prepare more dishes and to take the tart out of the oven before she returned. Despite what she'd said, the food disappeared without any leftovers. She was working like crazy carrying rations and seemed a little more nervous than necessary.

When the dinner was coming to an end, those men wanted to drink, so she went down to the cellar for more beer, but not before ordering me to bring the other piece of tart I had made to the Herr Kommandant, who still wanted seconds.

- Be discreet and don't make any mistakes… don't look at anybody either, - she warned me before leaving me alone with the task.

I asked myself why that woman was so cautious and without being able to help it, my legs started shaking.

"This is only about carrying a piece of tart," I thought, trying to reassure myself.

I swallowed, guiding myself slowly with the plate in my hand and with my head bent down, to the room from which came all those strident voices. Arriving at the door I saw that all of the SS had taken their jackets full of insignias off and were talking and laughing in a very casual tone. The Herr Kommandant presided at the table along with another German who appeared to be of even higher rank than him and who was the only one acting seriously. I approached carefully leaving the plate with the tart on the table. His gaze at once passed from my hands to my dark eyes. His eyes and fake smile widened, giving him the perverse aspect I'd seen before. When his gaze fell to my right arm all expression disappeared and his face turned grim. I withdrew from his sight and left the room as fast as I could. I felt safe upon entering the kitchen and I hoped that they wouldn't send me back into that crowded room.

Before midnight the guests left and the house fell silent. It was then that the woman who had helped me throughout the day introduced herself.

- My name is Anya, - she whispered softly.

- I'm Helen, Helen Hirsch, - I answered, trying to make eye contact with her.

The back door of the villa opened and a solder burst into the kitchen. We both started, but he ignored us.

- You, - he said pointing his finger firmly, making me look at him in fear. – You're sleeping in the basement from now on. Orders of the Herr Kommandant. The rest of you, hurry up and leave the villa and return to the barracks. The Herr Kommandant doesn't want you hanging around his house. –

Anya nodded and the soldier closed the door abruptly.

Without questioning his orders, she began to clean faster and I imitated her. When the kitchen was perfect, she said goodbye to me, but I grabbed her by the arm.

- Wait…where are you going? – I asked her nervously.

- To sleep. You heard the soldier. You stay here.

- Why? Where have the others gone? Why can't I go with them?

Anya laughed at me with a tired laugh and then gave me a curious look.

- I don't know, but you're lucky. It's less cold here than the barracks…even in the cellar. You have to do what they order you, - she said decisively and turned to go. – The cellar is at the very end down the stairs. –

She didn't even turn around to tell me that information before leaving. When the door closed behind her, it left an unpleasant silence and I felt very alone.

I couldn't do anything but turn off the kitchen lights and feel my way silently down the stone stairs that led to the cellar. That area where I was supposed to sleep was gloomy, humid and lit only by a dim bulb. Along the walls there were some shelves with liquor and wines of all types. In front of the stairs was a little iron bed along with a bathtub and toilet that was covered with a threadbare shower curtain. You could hear the water dripping constantly, and it had a window so covered with snow that you could barely see the outside light. That place seemed to me as sinister as the worst barracks. The difference was that in the barracks I wouldn't be alone, so I thought that I wasn't as lucky as the woman had said.

Without even taking off my clothes I sat on the rusty iron bed, which creaked loudly despite my slight weight. I was so tired that within a few minutes I was lying down. Shortly after, I closed my eyes and fell asleep. I thought any dream or nightmare would be better than reality, but I didn't even have time to dream when I noise woke me. I jumped and got out of bed realizing that someone was coming down the stairs. I knew very well that only Germans could still be there in that house.

I was very surprised to discover that it was the Herr Kommandant. I stood paralyzed beside the bed while I watched him come down the last step and look from side to side as if he were looking for something. I thought he was looking for something to drink, but his cold eyes met mine, and my heart raced when he began to walk toward where I was. He was very tall but I could see a cruel expression on his face. He stopped in front of me and my gaze immediately fell to the ground.

- Where are the bones from dinner? – he asked in an apparently calm voice that held a note of frustration.

I looked at him nervously and my lips trembled without knowing what to respond. I was totally blank and his intimidating presence made it difficult for me to speak. He gave an impatient sigh, taking a step toward me while clenching his fists.

- I think I asked you a question. The bones from dinner are for my dogs…Where are they? –

I swallowed and answered feebly, intending to apologize. – I threw them out, Herr Kommandant. I didn't know they were…-

He raised his hand and hit me hard on the cheek before I'd finished the sentence. I nearly fell, but didn't even realize due to the shock because it was the first time a man had hit me. Before I could lift my hand up to my cheek that had begun to burn, he hit me on the other one. When I began to feel the pain, it was unbearable. I heard his breath quicken and he grabbed me by the hair to hit me a few more times. When he let me go, I got the courage to speak.

- But…why are you hitting me? – I said in a frail voice.

His blue eyes widened as if he couldn't believe that I dared talk back to him. Our eyes met and for an instant I seemed to notice weakness in his, but I must have been wrong because the next moment he was even more furious. His response was to hit me again, harder than before. I fell on the bed and I raised my hands to my openly bleeding lip.

- The reason that I hit you now is because you've asked me why I hit you. – His scornful, ruthless voice put me off trying to reason with him.

I was left there lying motionless and he grabbed my arm, sliding his fingers to the armband with the Star of David. I shuddered thinking that he wanted to lift me up, but he only spoke.

- I don't want you wearing something that identifies you as the trash you are anymore, - he said and he stretched out the armband with such force that he almost ripped it.

The tears began to fall and I covered them up with both hands. He stayed standing there, looking at me for a few minutes. His presence and passivity toward my pain troubled me more than the blows. I just wanted him to leave. Finally my wish came true and I heard him walk away from me and slowly climb the cellar steps.

The next morning when I woke up, everything was dark. I spent a while lying down while fragmented images of what happened popped into my head. My face and chest hurt and I couldn't stop shaking as I curled up into a ball to warm up. I hadn't slept many hours, but I knew that I wouldn't sleep much more, so I decided to get up. It took a lot of effort to stand up and that's when I felt the intensity with which my lip burned. I clumsily walked through the cellar to find the dim bulb and turned it on. Then, feeling weak, I headed to the tub, turning on both taps to clean the blood from my lip. I washed myself up well and combed my hair with wet fingers. I regretted I didn't have a mirror to be able to comb my hair with dignity, although I was sure that if I had one, my reflection wouldn't be pretty. Without a doubt, my face had more than one bruise.

I finished climbing the stairs silently, taking refuge in the kitchen when I was tired of being in the dark cellar. I was scared and all I thought of was that house would soon refill with people in my same condition. I couldn't explain to myself what had happened nor the reason I hurt all over. I just knew that I'd made a mistake and that man had reacted violently. I felt a lump in my throat when I remembered his cold eyes full of sadism. It seemed as if he had enjoyed hitting me.

Tears of helplessness and fear ran down my cheeks. I told myself it was best to forget what had happened and act normally. I thought everything would be easier if I erased that memory from my mind like I had erased many others since that horrible war had begun.

I stayed in the dark in the kitchen until dawn. A few minutes later, I could hear the soldiers with Ukrainian accents giving orders. I assumed they brought the prisoners who worked in the villa, and the feeling I wouldn't be alone any longer possessed me.

When I heard the door of the kitchen open quietly, Anya came in and I raised my head, relieved to see her. Our eyes met and she stood paralyzed, so I suspected she had noticed the new marks on my face. I didn't want to explain what had happened, so despite being happy to see her, I ignored her and began to make breakfast. I was obsessed with it all coming out perfectly, and nothing else occupied my time. However, I knew very well that although I was only thinking about ingredients that I ought to put in and how long the fire ought to be on, there was something inside my head that wouldn't let me be calm. When breakfast was over, Anya gave me good news. She said that I had to leave the villa to go to the building where the SS stored provisions. I wanted nothing more than to leave that house, so I happily agreed.

She gave me a basket and I let the Polish cold penetrate my bones. While I was walking down the stairs of the villa, I looked down from that privileged height and understood very well why they let me leave unescorted. The whole area around the house and the concentration camp was fenced and jammed with soldiers. Within the camp, I saw thousands of people working and everything seemed unchanged from the day I'd left.

I decided to go down and approach the barbed wire that separated me from those people with whom I felt united in destiny. I thought that it was a possibility that while following the path that Anya had indicated to the storage building, someone I knew would get close and I could send a message to Aleksandra that I was well. I walked for a long time, but nobody got close to the wire. I felt the eyes of the soldiers fixed on me repeatedly and I asked myself if I wasn't risking too much. Fortunately, when I was close to my destination, the number of armed men decreased.

An enormous metal building rose before my eyes and I headed down the road toward it. When I approached I could see that it was very well protected. Several SS soldiers were at the door chatting with strong German accents while a few passed a thermos full of coffee from one to another to fill their cups. Their voices were silenced when I approached them. My legs were shaking and I didn't know how to begin to speak. I noticed that several of them looked at my shoulder and I remembered I wasn't wearing the Star of David. A flash of something that had happened the night before went through me and I understood that I hadn't gotten taken it off voluntarily.

One of them addressed the one with the most insignias on his uniform and began to speak.

- Ist sie Jude? Sie trägt keinen Davidstern. –

- Sie arbeitet für Herr Kommandant…- he answered him and upon hearing the last sentence, I decided to intervene.

- The Herr Kommandant sent me. I work for him in the villa, - I said softly. They all looked at me coldly and I thought I'd made a mistake in speaking.

The one with the authority over the others turned and I heard the door of the storage building open with a dry and metallic sound.

- Come in, fräulein, - he said stepping aside and smiling sarcastically.

I entered the immense aisle and observed my surroundings. Right away I felt like I had when I was free and went to the market with my mother. There were all kinds of food, enough to feed an army for a few weeks. Those men couldn't have felt the slightest empathy for us if we were left to starve with such an arsenal.

I began to fill the basket with the food I needed to cook, quickly trying to control my frustration. When I looked at all the fruit they had in numerous boxes, my head began to spin. A soldier was watching over me intently, but unable to control myself, I deliberately began to grab some apples and pears.

- What difference would one more or one less make to them? I could give them to people who need to eat, - I thought.

I was aware of the danger, but if I couldn't risk helping my people have access to more food, I would be the same as the Nazis. That scared me more than if they shot me in the head.

When I finished, I picked up my basket and I headed toward the door where the same armed men were. My gaze fixed on the ground and I intensely hoped that nobody would notice me or ask me any questions. Fortunately they were very entertained listening to one of them relate a story about the war, and they ignored me.

I headed sadly along the road to the villa. Although I'd tried to block the memories all day, I knew returning to the house frightened me. I was so distracted with my own grief that I almost didn't notice the huge eyes of a girl looking at me through the fence that separated me from the work camp. I was struck by how thin she was, even for one so young. I surreptitiously grabbed an apple from the basket, hiding it up my sleeve. I looked around and discreetly approached the fence, letting it fall without making any sudden movements. I noticed the girl crouch, and a feeling of satisfaction intoxicated me in knowing I had helped.

When I had spent a while walking and could already see the house in the distance, I felt someone following me. It was a young boy who watched me intently. I wondered if he'd seen me give food to that little girl and expected something as well. I couldn't give him anything because I was sure the Germans would realize, so I quickened my step, avoiding the problem. Although he carried a bucket, he sped up, too, until he was beside me. I exchanged a nervous glance with him so that he would go away but he began to speak.

- You were in the concentration camp before. I noticed you because you are very pretty. Now they let you leave? –

I kept walking without answering although I was flattered by his childish gallantry that reminded me of good times. He didn't give up and I heard his voice again.

- What happened to your lip? – he asked again in a curious voice.

I blanched and lowered my head with a sigh. I didn't want to remember what had happened to me so I ignored him again. He respected my silence and didn't speak for a few minutes, but he didn't leave my side. I looked at him and could see that he was dark, with big eyebrows and nose. He appeared to me to be the typical Jewish boy that I saw in synagogues when I went with my father, and a feeling of sympathy toward him was awakened in me. When he realized I was looking at him, he began speaking to me again.

- I work a lot for the Herr Kommandant. He's always giving me orders. Now he's asked me to wash his horse.

He carried a bucket with soap and water that I assumed was to carry out his tasking. I was upset because they'd forced a young boy to work at an age when he should be with his parents. However, I'd already seen so many outrageous things that my expression didn't change.

- I work as the cook at the villa, - I said pointing to the top of the hill with my hand. – My name is Helen. –

- My name is Lisiek, - he answered almost at once.

- Your parents are also in Plaszow? –

- No, my parents are dead, - he said with an acceptance that shocked me. – I was an orphan and the Germans caught me. I've been here a long time. That's why the Herr Kommandant chose me to work for him. Sometimes I go to the villa.

- Really? Well…when you come back by there you can visit me in the kitchen, but only if the soldiers let you, - I said, not intending to look for any problems.

He smiled at me and I stared at him because I wasn't able to do that. I spotted the stone steps leading to the house nearby, and I left him.

- Bye, - I said to him waving while I walked away.

- Goodbye.


	3. Herr Schindler

**This story is entirely fictional and inspired by Schindler's List. It's set during the Nazi era, but does not support any ultra right-wing movement.**

**This chapter is translated by Jenna Le (u/5386982/)**

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3. Herr Schindler

It was one of those dark winter days due to the bad weather in Poland, but it was still morning. I'd already finished preparing breakfast and was hoping that Anya would come to serve it. A few minutes went by and she didn't appear. Since I trembled at the thought of serving breakfast late, I decided to take the trays myself. I had to make several trips to the dining room, but in the end I managed to leave everything I'd prepared on the table.

A few minutes later, I heard voices I didn't recognize approaching, and I suspected they were paying a visit to the Herr Kommandant. I took several more cups and put them together on a tray with coffee and milk in case the men wanted something to drink.

When I returned, they were all already sitting down. The Herr Kommandant was silent while his two comrades wouldn't stop talking. I didn't look at any of them, and quietly began to place the cups on the table and serve coffee. When I finished, I turned around to leave the room quickly, but I hadn't taken two steps when his voice made me stop in my tracks.

- This coffee isn't very hot. -

I closed my eyes trying not to shake, and turned toward the table to remove the cup and heat it up again.

- No! - He screamed, scaring me when I went to pick up the cup. He got up and grabbed my hand, crushing it with his huge fingers. With his free hand, he hit me on the cheek.

The two other SS remained silent, contemplating the scene. My whole face was on fire and my eyes sank, refusing to look at him. My heart was beating so wildly that I was sure he could feel it since he was grabbing me by the wrist.

Before letting me go, he got close to me and whispered.

- That will teach you, bitch. -

The he sat down and continued to have breakfast as if nothing had happened. His two other comrades also went back to their earlier conversation, laughing, and they forgot about me as I quietly slipped out to the kitchen.

That day I silently cried a lot while preparing the food. Anya entered during this time period, speaking in a low, distressed voice.

- It's just as well you served breakfast. You only have to cook. Nevertheless, I clean this house from top to bottom and do all the hard work. You're lucky, too much… -

I didn't hear the rest of what she said, and she disappeared without realizing I was crying. I took another break to dry some tears and then I heard another voice I didn't recognize.

- Helen? -

I turned around and in front of me was the boy who'd followed me the day they'd sent me to the storage building for food. I remembered his name.

- Lisiek! What are you doing here? -

- I'm working here today, - he said simply, dropping a dirty rag he carried in his hand. -Are you crying? -

- Nothing's wrong, - I answered, trying to calm down.

He walked toward me with his head slightly bowed. I grabbed one of the sausages that were leftover from breakfast and offered it to him while checking that nobody was watching us. He accepted it, but it didn't distract him from the subject.

- We're all going through a hard time. -

His childish voice sounded strange saying something so mature.

- I know, there are people who have it a lot worse than me, - I whispered, feeling a little guilty. - But I can't help crying…I'm afraid. -

That was the truth and I confirmed it by glancing nervously at the kitchen door in case someone was listening.

- Do you know if the Herr Kommandant is home? Has he seen you come here? - I asked quietly.

- He's not home and I don't think he knows I'm here. Is he the one you're afraid of? -

- Yes. - It was useless to deny it now.

- Me, too. -

I didn't know if it made me sadder or happier to share this fear with him. I couldn't help letting out what was tormenting me.

- I try to do things well, but to him it's all wrong…I've only been here a few days and I think I want to go back to the work camp despite the cold. He doesn't beat the others as much. Whenever I do something wrong, he comes to punish me. I'm scared and… -

- Are you afraid of being beaten? - He interrupted me and I noticed a hint of surprise in his question.

- Sure, - I answered and I swallowed. - I suppose that he doesn't hit you as much as me. With me he's especially cruel and it seems like even though I try to do things the way he likes them, I can't manage. -

I felt a little relieved at having told someone about the blows I suffered in silence and that I could no longer ignore, but I continued to be as sad and scared as before. Lisiek's voice interrupted my thoughts.

- I'm afraid he'll kill me. -

He'd been looking at one of kitchen walls and looked very serious.

- What? - I asked despite having heard him perfectly.

- He likes to kill, we're all afraid of him. They told me that he's the one who kills the most people in the concentration camp, and it makes no difference if they're women or children. Yesterday he killed twenty-eight prisoners in one barracks because one had stolen and the others didn't want to give him away. I watched from a distance as he did it. -

- You saw? - My voice came out weakly and I started to feel a panicked pain in my chest. I didn't want to believe what he'd said, but knew deep down that he'd been sincere. - I watched him order them to kill a woman. I thought he could just order the soldiers to do those types of things since he's in charge here. -

- He could do that, but I already told you that he likes to kill. Everybody runs to hide when they see him…wherever. They say that seeing the Herr Kommandant is like seeing death. We work for him and we have to see every day. You shouldn't be preoccupied with a few smacks. -

- A few smacks? No, it's been more than a few smacks. He's come to hit me during… -

- He's*** a few of us sometimes, too, once or twice, but he doesn't give many chances. If someone makes more than two mistakes, he takes out a gun and kills them. -

I looked down for a while without saying anything else.

- So I was going to die? - I thought.

It wasn't the first time I'd thought about death since the war began. Death pursued all Polish Jews and it was hard for us to escape from it.

I wish I could have died alongside Aleksandra. The last thing I want is to die alone and because a Nazi shoots me in the neck because his soup is cold. I wish I'd never come to this horrible villa.

I was about to start crying again when Anya burst into the kitchen.

- What's that child doing here? - she said pointing to Lisiek who, at that moment, was eating the sausage.

I put my hand on his shoulder and advised him to leave. When he did, Anya looked at me wide eyed.

- Are you crazy? You give him food and you let him come in here? If the Germans see you, they'll kill you, - she said bluntly. - I don't want to get myself in trouble so don't even get me involved. You better get cooking quickly because the Herr Kommandant is expecting very important guests. -

I was so sad that I rejected all her advice. I wanted to continue speaking to Lisiek, and if there were leftovers, preferred sharing them among us rather than giving them to the dogs. Nothing mattered to me as much anymore as helping each other; many of us would die soon anyway.

As she'd said, that day very important people were expected, so Anya and I put on maids' dresses. Lately we'd used them a lot because the Herr Kommandant seemed to know a lot of influential people in the military and in business. They were all apathetic Germans who only began to smile and joke when we started to bring bottles of liquor. They spoke of "the Jews" as objects that could be utilized to earn money and they made me sick. Still, I was focused on being as discreet as possible and not making any mistakes nor doing anything to displease them.

My job was to stay far away from the table where he ate and approach only to remove the plates when the Herr Kommandant signaled me with a gesture of his fingers. Those moments listening to them talk, while carefully watching the same hand he would surely use later to beat me, were miserable. Nonetheless, that day something else caught my attention.

A very stylish German in an elegant suit sat beside the Herr Kommandant. His eyes were friendly while he conversed animatedly. I'd seen such little kindness in the eyes of Germans since the start of the war that I couldn't help noticing him.

As soon as I was able to retire from the dining room, I forgot about the man, but while I tried to get to work scrubbing dishes, Anya reminded me.

- Have you seen that man sitting beside the Herr Kommandant? -

- The one from the SS? -

- No, the one in the suit. -

- Yes, - I answered surprised that we'd both noticed the same man.

- He's Oskar Schindler. -

- Who? I don't know anything about important German businessman, - I admitted without feeling embarrassed.

- He's an important businessman. Yes, but that's not why I'm bringing him up, - she said quite enthusiastically. - He has a factory in Lipowa Street and all the employees are Jews. He helped a lot of them by giving them work so that they wouldn't be deported. -

Ah! - I exclaimed, proud at having realized he was a good man. Still, I didn't know in what way that could be helpful to us.

Anya disappeared from the kitchen while I continued scrubbing the plates. When she returned carrying a bottle in one of her hands, she gave it to me.

- He's still meeting with another German and wants you to serve them, - she said simply.

I sighed deeply and went to the room from whence the serious voices came. When I shyly peeped into the room from the door, he motioned to me to approach to fill his guest's cup. I obeyed, and while I was doing it, that man spoke.

- Thank you. -

I was enormously surprised because it was the first time in a long time that someone had thanked me for something. I instinctively raised my gaze that I always kept down and I could see it was the huge green eyes that had seemed to me to be kind during the meal. I cut off the eye contact with him quickly, and started to fill the Herr Kommandant's cup, but he interrupted me.

- Leave the bottle. - His voice was harsh and rough like when I'd done something wrong.

My hands started to shake although I knew he wouldn't dare hit me then. He made another gesture for me to grab a bowl on the table and I obeyed again, starting to walk swiftly to leave that room.

- Lena. - I stopped abruptly and turned around without looking directly at him. That wasn't my name but it's what he called me out of laziness.

I swallowed in fear, expecting anything might happen, but what he said next was what I least expected.

- Thank you. -

That sounded unreal to my ears. I nodded weakly and disappeared from the small room, biting my lips in relief.

I almost ran the last few steps and when I got to the kitchen, I leaned against a wall trying to control my breathing. It was incredible to me to have received two thanks in a row in the same day. I knew that the one from Herr Schindler had been sincere, but the Herr Kommandant had never said a kind word to me and I didn't envision him capable of being kind to me voluntarily.

- Surely seeing that his guest was a good person, he tried to pretend that he was also good so that Herr Schindler wouldn't think he was as cruel to us as everyone says, - I thought.


	4. Hannukah

**This chapter is translated by Jenna Le (u/5386982/)**

**This story is entirely fictional and inspired by Schindler's List. It's set during the Nazi era, but isn't in support of any ultra right-wing movement.**

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**4. Hannukah**

I was walking to the villa from the storage building where the sent me for food when I saw the Herr Kommandant's two dogs playing viciously with each other nearby. When I walked near them, one of them moved toward me slowly, wrinkling his nose and baring his teeth at my ankles. My legs started to shake at seeing the animal's threatening demeanor, but I decided to ignore it so that he wouldn't smell my fear like he'd done other times.

I deviated from the path a little bit to avoid the dog, and I walked close to a fountain where a prisoner was filling a bucket of water. I was surprised to see someone outside of the work camp, and I tried to get close enough to him so that he could start a conversation.

The man looked at me and turned to make sure the soldiers were distracted. Fortunately they were, and it was he who spoke to me.

-Who are these Hellhounds? – he asked, pointing at the two dogs. –

-They are the Herr Kommandant's dogs, - I answered discreetly.

-Yesterday I saw them attacking a few men…now I know why they say that dogs look like their masters. –

I didn't want to hear any unpleasant stories and I decided to change the subject to one that interested me.

-I have a friend in the camp. Her name is Aleksandra Kenner. If you see her, could you tell her that her friend, Helen, is fine? –

-I arrived at Plaszow a little while ago and I hardly know anyone, but I'll try to tell her if I see her, - he said, gesturing sympathetically. – I used to work for Oskar Schindler but they brought me here when the ghetto was liquidated. –

I kept quiet and stole a glance at the soldiers who continued to be as distracted as before. I wondered if it would be appropriate to share the information that I knew with him, but in the end I did.

-I know who Herr Schindler is. He was at the villa yesterday. –

-Really? Do you work there? – He asked staring at me.

I nodded my head weakly.

-Perhaps one of the factories that will be moved to Plaszow will be his. It will be very good news, - the man said, and a smile came across on his tired features.

-Is he a good man? – I asked, to assure myself that what I'd hear was true.

-Of course he is. He didn't just give us work, but he also paid us with objects we could trade for food. With him we didn't experience as much hunger as we're experiencing here.

My attraction to him increased, despite his being a German.

-If they move the factory here, it will be a lucky day for us, - I said looking at the sky as if Hashem had realized we were suffering and was going to help us.

-Today is a day that we ought to be lucky. Do you know what day it is? –

I shook my head; I didn't even know for certain what month it was. The fear and the work had me so absorbed that I hadn't had time to stop and think about it.

-Today is Hanukkah. –

That word made me more sad than happy. All the memories of those moments spent with my family rushed through my mind. The gifts, the happiness and laughter… all that seemed to belong to another life. The happiest days of my existence had been the last Hanukkah I remembered. I never would have thought at that time that two years later I would be alone and suffering so much. An authoritative voice brought me out of my reverie.

-What are you doing here? Nobody has given you permission to be talking.

Despite not looking up, I was well aware that it was a soldier. The man who'd been talking to me had already gone straight down the path to return to the work camp, and I did the same toward the villa in order to not look for any problems. However, the German stood in front of me and blocked my way.

-Stop. –

I looked up and saw to my dismay that it wasn't a soldier. He wore the SS uniform and his jacket shone with various medals and insignias indicating that he was at least a sergeant. I was quite intimidated, but not sufficiently to remember the Herr Kommandant, and those words inexplicably came out of my mouth.

-What have I done? - I asked without realizing how insolent it was for a prisoner to speak that way to someone of his rank.

By the time I regretted what I'd said, it was too late.

-What you've done is to stand around talking instead of working, - he said in a despotic voice. – You'd better show more respect; I'll escort you to your destination. –

-No need, Herr. I'm going to the villa and I'm only carrying food in this basket, - I replied with all the meekness and good manners I could, and I showed it to him so that he might see that it really was what I said.

Having an SS officer escort, besides being unnecessary and a nuisance, would call a lot of attention to me and many would ask if I'd done something in order to be escorted. I didn't want anyone to know that I'd been caught talking to another prisoner without permission, and my legs shook at the possibility that it might reach the ears of the Herr Kommandant and he might then punish me with the cruelty of which only he was capable.

-It doesn't matter. I want to escort you. –

I let out an imperceptible sigh of exasperation, and I couldn't do anything but start to walk with that man at my side. After a few steps, his voice said something that didn't make any sense to me.

-I wanted to apologize to you. –

I looked at him out of the corner of my eye, trying to figure out if there was some other person with whom he was speaking. It was very strange that a member of the SS was apologizing to me, much more than the two "thank you's" I'd received the day before.

-Why? – I asked, so confused that my voice trembled.

-For the Herr Kommandant's attitude toward you. I don't think a woman ought to be treated that way, not even a prisoner. I was eating breakfast at his house and I saw him get up and hit you. Don't you remember? –

-Yes, Herr…- I said and nodded my head as a sign of gratitude.

I had no desire to remember what had happened at that breakfast so I didn't want him to make any further comments to me on the subject.

When I'd been walking for a while, I lifted my head to look at that officer. He looked sad and didn't have the usual air of superiority of the SS. He reminded me of something, but I didn't know of what. It couldn't be from serving him at the Herr Kommandant's house because normally I was so scared that I never dared to look at any German. Then I remembered when I'd seen him; it had been that day when the Herr Kommandant chose me to be his servant. After, the Herr Kommandant had ordered him to kill a woman because the barracks was poorly constructed. It seemed quite hypocritical apologizing for that man's attitude toward me when I'd seen him kill one of us just because he'd been ordered.

He didn't direct another word to me until we arrived at the steps to the villa, and fortunately I found that almost no one had seen him escorting me.

-I'll leave you here. I'm Untersturmführer Hujar, in case we see each other again. –

I nodded my head in a feigned sign of respect and was glad that he'd gone away. When I followed him with my gaze, my heart skipped a beat. The Herr Kommandant was heading in the opposite direction as him, walking toward the villa. I froze when I saw that guy, Hujar, click his heels together and stand at attention when he walked past. Fortunately for me, the Herr Kommandant kept walking as if he hadn't seen anyone, and didn't even salute him.

I went up several steps quickly even though I knew he would enter through the front door and we wouldn't cross paths. When I was at a considerable height, I turned and looked at him out of the corner of my eye to make sure he hadn't noticed me. Once I did, I couldn't look away from him. He had a very somber face, the gun in his hand, and that elegant tan jacket that he always wore had the whole left sleeve covered in blood. At first I thought that he must have hurt himself but seeing him move properly convinced me that the blood wasn't his. It affected me, and I began to feel nauseous. I remembered Lisiek's words about him enjoying killing people. I couldn't understand how a man could be so cruel.

He looked up and I didn't have time to find out if our eyes had met or not because I started up the steps again quickly. I didn't stop running until I arrived at the backdoor of the house and locked myself in the kitchen.

I completely devoted myself to making dinner in order to forget the image I'd seen on the stairs that made my stomach churn so much. I was concentrating so hard that time went by quickly, and after a few hours I found myself with all the dirty dishes all over the countertop waiting to be washed.

One of the Herr Kommandant's enormous dogs, the same one who had growled at me that afternoon, came wagging his tail and whimpering slightly. He called them Rolf and Ralf, like the characters in a comic strip of a German newspaper. I couldn't say if it was Rolf or Ralf, I just knew that he was loving, and that he no longer bared his teeth because he knew I could give him food. I gathered the bones from dinner to one side and I put them on a tray outside of the kitchen so that I wouldn't have to see him. The dog licked my hand and I almost felt bad at having awakened the sympathy of someone in that horrible house.

So many snowflakes began to fall that as you looked out the window, you could only see the intensity of the color white even though it was night. I was hypnotized watching that storm and suddenly it was as if I were at home celebrating Hanukkah with my parents as we watched out the window while it was snowing. I was distracted with my imaginary happiness and slowly began to draw a Hannukiah with nine arms on the glass with my finger while slowly reciting one of the songs we sang.

Chanuka, Chanuka Chag yafel kol kack Orh Chaviv, mi-savis Hil liyeed rach…

When I came out of my reverie, I erased what I'd drawn on the glass and looked at my own reflection staring back at me. I thought I saw something behind me and I turned around. The Herr Kommandant was at the kitchen door and he was looking at me with cold eyes. Right behind him was a very young woman. All my nerves tensed, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. Despite the fear, I was conscious of asking myself why he was there with a woman. He entered the kitchen and grabbed one of the dirty dishes that had been lying on the counter and examined it. Then he abruptly threw the plate into the sink, and it sounded as if it had broken.

-Why isn't all of this washed? You haven't cleaned or tidied the kitchen. – His voice sounded different than usual and gave me the impression that he was drunk. He paused before speaking again.

-What are you looking at out the window? –

He made a noise to attract my attention since I was paralyzed staring at the ground. Even so, I still didn't answer his questions and when he approached me, I instinctively took a step back, colliding my back up against the wood of the window. There was no escape and I felt how his enormous hand grabbed me by the neck.

I gasped, struggling for breath, as he forcibly lifted my head so that our eyes would meet. His were glassy due to the alcohol. He blinked several times and, confused, watched my scared eyes as if it were harder for him to maintain eye contact than me.

-You're not going to answer me? Really? –

I knew very well that I couldn't speak in front of him, and even less so with his hand crushing my neck. I began to shake without replying to him, and that was what finally made him furious…


	5. Herzlichen Glückwunsch, Herr Kommandant!

**This story is entirely fictional and inspired by Schindler's List. It contains violence and content related to the Holocaust, and could offend the sensibilities of those who read it. This fic does not support Nazism or any right-win movement.**

**This chapter is translated by Jenna Le (u/5386982/)**

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**Helen Chapter 5**

That morning some Ukranian soldiers had called at the back door of the villa and told me they were hungry. I had no sympathy for those men, but knew very well that I shouldn't antagonize them either, so I gave them some pieces of cake left over from dinner. They were very happy, and later they brought me stale bread and some soup so I could eat. The bread couldn't compare at all to the cake I'd given them, but I mumbled thanks anyway.

Shortly after, Lisiek came to visit me in the kitchen, as usual, and I invited him to eat what those soldiers had brought me. We went down to the cellar because I didn't want anyone to see me with more food than normal in my hands, and we started to eat. Lisiek was quiet for a while, looking at the dreary place when I slept. I didn't want to talk either, so we stayed in silence for a good while until he got tired of it.

-I've heard a story, - he said in a very somber voice.

-Well…what's the story? – I said, preparing to hear the worst, but to no avail.

-I was told that in a concentration camp (not far from here) they put all the prisoners in a truck, turn on the engine and choke them with the fumes. Then they make a bonfire with the… -

-Don't tell me things like that. It will give me more nightmares than I already have, - I interrupted him bitterly.

-The one who told me says it's true, - he insisted.

-And what good does it do me to hear what happens in other concentration camps? I already have to see enough here. –

-Here they don't kill us en masse, - he said, as if there were a big difference.

-But they make us work en masse, many hours, without food or rest. Many die and it doesn't matter to them. It's almost the same thing, - although I was about to use the word "worse."

-I don't think it's the same. I'd rather be alive than dead. -

I stared at him when he said those words, and I realized that we had different ways of thinking.

-There are times when I'm tired of feeling pain, hunger, cold, and humiliation every day. I ask myself if it would be better if it were all over. There must be a better world than this one.

-Well, I'd rather live, - he said again, and looked at me as if I were a dreamer.

I got the impression that although he was younger than me, he seemed more mature. I left the bread to one side because I no longer had an appetite. Lisiek sank back into one of his long silences again, and the only thing I heard for a long time was the leaky faucets. The next thing he said was even more uncomfortable to talk about than death.

-Do you know where your family is?

-No, - I answered him without any further explanation.

-How's that? – he asked with a curiosity that irritated me a bit.

-My father had money and the Germans ransacked our house. He and my mother were taken away because they were too weak to work. My sister was very young and couldn't work either, so they also separated us later. I don't know where they've been since then. –

-And do you think they could be alive?

-I don't want you to ask me any more questions, Lisiek. I have things to do, - I said suddenly, and I got up from the old bed we were sitting on.

I wanted to distract my mind because I knew that thinking of my family did me a lot of harm. I avoided all the unpleasant thoughts because I had promised myself not to cry so much. It was a ridiculous promise, but the truth is it helped lessen the pain.

I looked for a bucket of potatoes that I had to peel, and dragged it to an old chair so I could sit down.

Lisiek stayed on the bed a while watching me work. His company didn't bother me so I didn't ask him to leave, although I wondered if he didn't have other things to do. After a while, he said goodbye to me and I heard his footsteps go up the stairs.

I didn't stop working the rest of the day. It was the Herr Kommandant's birthday, and the list of food I had to prepare was endless. Many other people who worked in the villa came into the kitchen to help me, but sometimes having so many people around me was overwhelming, and some had never cooked and were a nuisance.

Anya brought a huge cake with several layers of cream that had been sent from a Krakow bakery and that looked delicious. It was beautiful and very well made, but despite the hunger I felt, it seemed horrible just thinking that it served to commemorate the birthday of that man.

Of course, you can't compare the Hebrew cake my mother made for Hanukah. –

The horrible Hanukah the day before quickly came to mind. I tried not to think of it a lot, but remembering that the Herr Kommandant had come to the kitchen with a woman that day, I asked Anya about it.

-Did you notice if there was a young girl at the Herr Kommandant's dinner yesterday? -

-You mean the Polish prostitutes who Schindler brought? – she asked indifferently.

-She was a very young girl…I'm surprised she'd be a prostitute, - I said to myself frowning.

-Well, I can assure you that she was, - she proclaimed a bit crankily. I understood she was tired and that she didn't want to keep any type of conversation going with me, so I dropped the subject, thinking that because of the war, young women were desperate to earn money and would do anything.

That day I worked so much that night came very slowly for me. One could hear more and more voices coming from the living room, and I ventured that there were a lot of guests. I'd been responsible for cooking all day, and only hoped the others would serve and I'd be left to finalize the details. The last thing I wanted was to have to enter the living room because I was panicked at doing something to bother him. I didn't want to imagine what the punishment would be if I made a mistake on his birthday.

My wish was granted until the end of the evening when Anya asked me to take some plates to the living room because she wanted to serve the cake. I took them, trying to be discreet and to get out as soon as possible. However, when I entered all the Germans were distracted talking and ignored me. The result was that I stayed secluded in a corner with a pile of plates in my hand, awaiting an order to put them on the table.

I couldn't help taking a look at the people who were there. They were all either members of the SS or men in suits. I could see Schindler among them. He attracted attention due to his elegance and his enormous green eyes. Beside him was a blond woman in a black dress, who seemed like she must be his wife. She looked at me, then gave me a smile. Surely she must be as good to us as Schindler.

When Anya brought the cake to the living room, they lit the candles and all the Germans sang "Zum Geburtstag viel Glück" accompanied by a man playing piano. He continued playing and the Herr Kommandant got up and sang a famous Austrian song. When he finished, everyone applauded.

I felt totally out of place amidst all that happiness. I looked out of the corner of my eye at the Herr Kommandant, waiting for an order from him, but he was distracted again because an SS officer suddenly entered the living room and everyone turned in unison to look at him. I couldn't help also turning my head to see to what we owed all the excitement. The officer was accompanied by a woman who was nothing like the other women there except me. She wore very old clothes that had stains and holes everywhere despite being clean. She also wore a headscarf, and her face reflected much sadness. I didn't need to see the Star of David embroidered on her dress to know she came from the work camp. The officer who accompanied her began to speak in a very nasal voice.

-This woman's name is Natalia Karp, and she's an excellent piano player… -

-Yes, and she's condemned to death…- added the Herr Kommandant, interrupting with a note of cruelty and ridicule in his voice. He and the SS officer exchanged a sinister smile.

-She's going to play for us… What are you going to play for us? –

The woman leaned over and said something in a soft voice that I failed to understand. It seemed to me that this ought to be very humiliating for her, and I felt disgusted. I could understand the fear that she would be feeling at that moment.

-Well…then play… - said one of the Germans as he raised his beer.

I watched mesmerized as she sat at the piano. I felt sympathy for her despite never having seen her before. She began to play and actually was marvelous. Although at first hearing her was a blessing, after it became a nightmare. The song had a strong romantic and mournful melody, and she interpreted it with great accuracy. My heart sank and all the sad moments that I'd experienced flooded my mind.

My family, the beatings, the nights without being able to sleep peacefully…

My eyes must have been sparkling while I tried not to cry, and I watched her playing with fascination. Without a doubt I couldn't have endured it much longer without crying if I hadn't noticed someone watching me. I blinked to break my reverie, and saw the Herr Kommandant had fixed his blue eyes on me with an intensity that frightened me. I lowered my head, cowed and a little irritated. At that time, he was the last man in the world who I wanted to look at me. I stayed like that until the end of the sad melody because something told me that he was still watching me. When she finished, all the Germans applauded except the Herr Kommandant, who rose from his chair and looked at her. He was silent, and then spoke in a very bewildered voice.

-I've never seen Chopin played so well… -

He stood for a few seconds after saying that, and raised his hand like a sign of mercy.

-You've played so well that I pardon the lives of your sister and you. I hope that you don't do anything else that you have to be condemned for. –

I was surprised that man had pardoned someone's life. I'd heard rumors that indicated exactly the opposite. The room was silent, and the SS appeared to be equally as surprised as me at what had just happened because they exchanged smiles among them. The woman got up and gave a nod as a sign of respect. When I saw her walk out the door with her hands folded, I identified with her, and it made me happy that they weren't going to kill her.

-What's happened to the cake? – the Herr Kommandant asked sharply. His voice made me react and I carefully placed the plates on the table.

When I finished, I quickly walked away from the noise of the living room to the kitchen. My feet hurt a lot from having worked all day and my head was spinning, so I leaned against the cold wall to feel better. My heart beat forcefully because the song that woman had played was stuck in my head. I'd never heard a melody so sad.

I also vividly recalled the Herr Kommandant's eyes when he'd looked at me. A shudder ran through my body, and I wondered why he'd look at me like that. I couldn't make out what he was thinking, so I though that perhaps he only wanted to scare or threaten me. I even thought perhaps I'd imagined it. I was so afraid and tired that it almost didn't seem strange to me that my mind wasn't functioning well.

That woman was very upset and she was as scared of him as I am.

It didn't seem like she could have done something so bad that they would condemn her to death. I remembered how the Herr Kommandant had taunted her, and felt an unpleasant sensation in my stomach.

He's so cold, cruel and sadistic. Saving her life is the only good thing I've seen him do.

Anya interrupted my thoughts because a large number of things to wash had mounted up. I went to work and I was glad to get those thoughts out of my head. I wanted to go to bed soon, but wouldn't be able to for a few more hours.

Cleaning the kitchen and scrubbing everything that had gotten dirty from making so much food was difficult, but I thought that when I finished, I'd be able to go to sleep. When I stopped hearing voices in the living room, I entered hoping to see it wasn't very dirty, and it was a great disappointment to find out I was wrong. The floor was littered with cake crumbs and alcohol that had been spilled, and the table was just the same, but adorned with wrapping paper. That room, that a little while before had been packed, was completely empty with the exception of an SS officer who was snoring in a chair with a beer still in his hand.

The officer was keeping me company while I worked very late, and I was exhausted when he finally woke up and asked me where everyone had gone. On seeing that he insisted on asking me questions, and because I didn't want to ask for trouble with a German, I told him that I didn't know where they were, but they'd surely gone elsewhere to continue the party. The officer made a nasal sound and left, abandoning the living room angrily without addressing another word to me. I was glad he left because I didn't like having the SS around. Germans behaved far worse with us, perhaps because they were so involved with the Nazi ideology and had a lot of prejudices against the Jews.

I was finishing cleaning the table when I heard footsteps behind me. That house was empty, and I was sure it could only be Anya, so I turned around to tell her that she could go to the barracks because I didn't need her help anymore. I couldn't even open my mouth when I realized who was actually in front of me. I'd thought that night I would be free from seeing him again. I immediately looked down at the ground. My body began to tremble and I tried desperately to stop it from doing so. I silently began asking myself questions that only fed my fear.

Why? Doesn't he have anything better to do on his birthday than hit me? What excuse will he give to me now?

I begged God that he'd go and leave me in peace. I knew that he'd had compassion one time that night, and I prayed he'd also have it with me. Perhaps asking for that man to have pity twice in one day was too much.

I stopped silently praying when he took a step toward me. I braced my hands on the table to quell the temptation to back up. I already knew that would infuriate him more.

-You've forgotten something, - he said in a deep voice that betrayed how very drunk he was.

I didn't bother to think of what it was I'd forgotten that was going to bring me so much pain.

He got even closer to me and also braced his hands on the table so that I felt cornered. The odor given off by the alcohol paralyzed me, and I went blank. I could clearly hear my heart pounding in my ears. The only thing that I wanted was to escape, but I knew that I couldn't do it; there was no escape.

-You forgot to congratulate me on my birthday. –

I was very surprised to hear that. Without a doubt, he must have been very drunk. I hoped that perhaps he thought he was speaking to someone else, but I knew deep down that it was only a foolish hope and very unlikely. I blinked several times and moved my mouth trying to speak, but as usual in his presence, nothing came out of my lips. I shivered when he laughed, and I realized that he knew to whom he was speaking. This was surely just a game to give me a hard time. Nevertheless, I again struggled to say something that wouldn't guarantee he'd hit me.

-Congratulations… Herr Kommand… - the sentence came out breathy and soft, and I doubted that he'd understood it.

I closed my eyes and waited for the beating to begin at any moment, but nothing happened. I wanted something to happen; it was almost more horrible to be waiting in fear than to feel the pain.

-I'm not going to hurt you, - he said in a tone of voice I'd never heard before from him.

I opened my eyes to prove he was the one who had spoken to me, but I didn't believe his words. When I looked at him, he curtly turned his cold gaze away from me as if he were horribly displeased. He stepped away and turned his back on me. My fear didn't subside because I noticed his hands were shaking.

After a minute, I saw him walk toward the door and leave. I clearly heard him climb the stairs to the top floor, and prayed that he'd really gone to sleep. I continued cleaning the table mechanically, while giving thanks to God for having listened to me for the first time.


	6. Rebecca Tannenbaum

**This chapter is translated by Jenna Le (u/5386982/)**

**This story is entirely fictional and inspired by Schindler's List. It contains violence and content related to the Holocaust, and could offend the sensibilities of those who read it. This fic does not support Nazism or any right-win movement.**

* * *

Several days had already passed since that very alarming birthday party. I continued working as hard as usual, and I only went outside when I was sent for food. The rest of the time I was locked up in the kitchen until nightfall.

That day was one of those during which I could take a walk and free myself for a bit from being shut inside. When returning to the villa from the barracks, I could see the mountains completely white with snow in the background. The scenery was beautiful, but it seemed like I was no longer capable of enjoying anything that was pleasant in this world. I was much more interested in looking through the barbed wire at the people from my town who were subjugated and worked tirelessly.

It seemed that my walk wasn't difficult enough because a few seconds later, Herr Offizier Hujar got close to me, forcing me to look away from the work camp. That man had gotten into the habit of escorting me so that he could take a break while pretending to guard a prisoner. I made a resigned face and continued, walking a little faster toward the villa.

-I see that you're not thankful that I'm accompanying you, - he commented, looking at me out of the corner of his eye.

I didn't know whether he'd noticed because of my body language or my nervousness.

-I certainly don't consider myself to be so dangerous a prisoner that an officer has to escort me, - I said a little ironically.

I didn't dare speak to any other German like that, not even a soldier, but I'd had so many conversations with him that I'd gotten into the bad habit, and he didn't bother to correct me. Regardless, I tried to soften my last comment.

-It doesn't bother me that you escort me, but I'm afraid of what the other Germans might think. –

-I understand you, - he said as if he perfectly understood me.

I doubted he had. It would be very difficult for that man because he wasn't the victim, but one of the executioners.

-You take great pains to distance yourself from Germans. Don't do that so much, - he said as if he were trying to give me some friendly advice.

I didn't understand what he meant, and was completely in disagreement with him. I wondered if he was making fun of me despite his looking very serious. I remained silent, but he continued his strange comments.

-In wars, it's not the intelligent that survive, but those who know how to act and with whom to associate. –

I was silent for a second, but finally I couldn't help speaking.

-And with whom should I associate so that you won't kill me? – I asked directly in a hoarse voice.

If I continued speaking to him like that I would be looking for trouble, but it irritated me that Nazis blamed us for not being able to survive.

-You have to associate with the very ones who have the power to kill you. -

I let out a sigh at hearing that. There was something that bothered me in those words. I wondered if that man was suggesting something to me, like many of them did. They convinced the female prisoners that they'd save them in order to be able to take them someplace private. I'd seen the soldiers do it on several occasions, but never an SS officer. That made me scared, but I tried to act normally so that he wouldn't suspect.

-I hope you never end up a prisoner because I can assure you that you wouldn't even last a day alive, - I said, and with that I made my thoughts clear.

-We all have weaknesses sometimes. I think that many of us get involved with you people every day. It's dangerous because eventually we develop a real bond. It even happens to those who are very prejudiced against people of your race. –

Those sentences were enough to make me sure of what he meant. I tried to tell him not to hurt me.

-I think you're a good man… - I said in a shaky voice.

-The truth is I must be very good. I never thought I'd try to warn you of what I'd do in your place. –

I started to walk toward the villa much faster, almost to the point of running. I waited for him to shoot me at any moment. However, I preferred to die like that before having to go through something as horrible as I imagined. He reached me in two strides.

-Where are you going? – He asked bewilderedly, getting in front of me.

My eyes were wet, and I wiped them with my sleeve with dignity.

-You're less intelligent than I thought. I wasn't talking about me. I forgot that for you Jews it's harder to understand things than for Aryans, - he said, very upset.

-What you said makes no sense, Herr Offizier. I know you don't care if you scare me, and that's why you're doing it. –

-I'm not trying to hurt you. I'm only trying to give you a piece of advice, but I see you've confused what I was trying to say. I don't want to lose a cordial relationship with the prisoner that allows me to wriggle out of work for a while some days. –

I swallowed, looked at the sky, and continued walking.

-You're in a position where you can take advantage of your situation. The dilemma is if you dare try or not. –

-I don't know what you're talking about. My situation right now is horrible, like all of us who are prisoners here. You know that. – My voice sounded angry and impertinent, but the officer seemed not to wince or be bothered by my tone.

He just laughed and took a swig from the flask he had hidden in his coat.

-Think about what I've told you. I can't be more direct with you, but I think it might be helpful. –

I nodded. However, I thought if I had to make a list of advice, the last I would take into account would be that of an SS officer. Nonetheless, his words kept running through my mind the whole way back. He spoke of "survival" and "taking advantage of my situation." Those were the two concepts I could least apply to my current existence. Every day I had less hope of survival and I'd completely stopped thinking of my future. Regarding the latter, I thought that arriving at the villa would improve my situation, but the truth was that I spent the days confined in a room working to exhaustion and scared to death.

When we arrived at the steps that went up to the villa, I continued by myself, putting that strange advice to the back of my mind.

I'd gotten up very early, and although I'd wasted time going to the barracks, I still hadn't started to make breakfast. I knew that if I did it too soon, it would get cold and then I'd have to worry desperately about warming it up. So I went down to the cellar to hide some food I'd stolen. I thought of hiding it under the bathtub. I drew the curtains that separated the toilet and tub from the rest of the basement so that nobody could see me. I heard someone coming down the stairs while I was crouched. I was already preparing for the worst and I cursed myself, trying to hide it quickly. When I came out, everything was very dark, but the person who'd come downstairs turned on the light bulb. I was glad to see it was a woman, even though I didn't know her at all.

-You startled me! – I said, looking away from her and raising my hand to my heart. - What are you doing here? -

She was very young, and I doubted she was even twenty years old. She had enormous gray eyes that glowed in the dark. Her hair was very blond and fell in ringlets over her shoulders. Nonetheless, she was excessively thin and wore a tattered dress accompanied by a black wool jacket. That didn't mar her beauty but gave it a somber aspect.

-Are you Helen Hirsch? – She asked in a little girl's voice.

-Yes, I am, - I said nervously, even with shock. – Helen Hirsch. –

-I'm Rebecca Tannenbaum. I come from the work camp. Are you Jewish? You're not wearing the star.

-No, no I don't wear it, but I'm Jewish like you, - I said, looking at the one she had embroidered on her jacket.

-Well… - she sighed and I saw her eyes begin to fill with tears.

I was puzzled and asked myself what she was doing here because I hadn't figured it out. She cried in bitter sobs, and I began to panic that she'd gotten herself into the villa because she had nowhere else to go.

-Look…this is the house of a very important man in the SS. I don't know how you've come to be here, but you'd better have a good reason because it's dangerous. –

-I know, it's the villa of Amon Goeth. I was looking for him. –

-Who? – I asked astonished that she dared call him by his name. – The Herr Kommandant? –

-Yes, the Herr Kommandant, - she repeated. – He needs a woman to give him a manicure and asked them to look for a prisoner who knows how. They chose me. –

She stopped talking and began to sob again. I didn't know what to do when I saw this young woman crying so desperately. I didn't know what had happened to her, although I could imagine.

-Sit down, please, - I said taking her hand and sitting on the bed with her. – You're very upset. –

-That man ordered some women shot because one of them stole a piece of bacon. He put them in a line and told the soldiers to kill them. When I was told they were looking for me because I had to do a job for him, I ran out, but they warned me that if I didn't come back, they'd kill the man who had given me the message - My eyes widened, although I'd heard many of those stories. – They told me you've been working for him for a while, and I've come to get some advice from you. How should I treat him so he doesn't kill me?

I sighed bitterly. I got out of bed and turned my back to her. My voice was the one that sounded weak now.

-I can't give you any advice. I'm the last person you should ask for it. I don't know why he hasn't killed me yet, because he hates me. I don't know how to treat him. Everything I do is wrong to him. The person who talked to you about me must have forgotten to tell you that he beats me. Because that's something that everyone who has come to the villa knows.

She rose from the bed and approached me, putting her hand on my shoulder.

-He gave you those bruises on your cheeks? - I turned and nodded. –

She gave me a hug and a kiss. I didn't expect it, but I hugged her as well. That made me feel better than I'd felt in a long time. The lack of warmth and affection was too much.

-Can we be friends? –

-Yes…of course, - I said sincerely, trying to stop my eyes from tearing up.

She let go of me, and looked at me very happily.

-I'm told that American soldiers said if they arrive at a concentration camp during the war, they'd free all the prisoners. Yesterday I dreamed that a very handsome American soldier arrived at Plaszow, grasped me in his arms, and took me out of here. In the next dream I have of him, he can take is both out. –

-Yes, - I replied, forcing a happy face, but thinking it was all very well as a dream, but improbable in reality.

She appeared to be a very young woman, but seemed like a little girl when speaking.

-Working for him is a problem. The only advice I can give you is to do everything he says. I'll give you sausages and cake when you return.

-Thanks, - she said, and she took both my hands.

-I have to make breakfast. Come with me? - I said when I realized I'd wasted too much time in the cellar talking to her.

She agreed and we went up the stairs quickly. I talked to her for a while. She told me what ghetto she'd been in and how she'd ended up in the work camp. She also told me that she was an orphan, but had numerous friends whom she considered almost family. That girl talked incessantly even though I only told her four things about me. She was very talkative, lively and cheerful; she had everything that I didn't have. She leaned on the kitchen counter and her blond ringlets were moving at the same speed as her lips.

When I finished breakfast, Anya entered the kitchen, surprised to see us both. Her face was reproachful, and she directed a preoccupied expression my way.

-Who is she? Are you back to letting your friends in the kitchen? – She asked pointing to Rebecca, who looked puzzled.

-No, - I answered irritably. – She's come to give the Herr Kommandant a manicure.

-Ah! He said for you to do it after he has breakfast, - she said to Rebecca. – First, take up the breakfast, Helen. –

I heard a gunshot coming from upstairs. I shivered although it wasn't the first morning I'd heard it. Lisiek told me the Herr Kommandant posted himself on the balcony with a rifle and shot at prisoners. I almost didn't want to believe it was something that was really happening. I was so lost in thought and trembling that Anya spoke to me again to make me react.

-Helen! You have to take up the breakfast. –

-What? – I asked confused.

-Go up to the bedroom and take him the breakfast. -

-To his room? –

-Yes, that's what I said. Hurry! – She shouted, looking at me as if she didn't understand why I made him wait.

-I can't go up. I've never done it. You take it to him, - I said repressing a shudder.

-He said it had to be you, - she stated emphatically.

I nodded my head slowly. My hands trembled while I put the things on a tray, trying not to forget anything. I started to walk out of the kitchen and continued through the hallway. Upon arriving at the stairs to the top floor, I stopped and gulped. I went up the stairs without making noise and snuck to an open door through which a lot of light emanated. I knocked on the door so softly that I knew for certain that, if anyone were there, they wouldn't have heard me. In response, I heard a gunshot coming from the room. I almost threw all the breakfast on the floor from the shock. I didn't want to enter, but I was afraid to keep him waiting, so I gently pushed the door open. I could see the balcony doors open and the Herr Kommandant leaning on the railing with what appeared to be a gun in his hands.

The room was very elegantly furnished, but wasn't very big. It had an enormous full size bed, a few tables and an armoire with his SS uniform hanging from a door. I immediately sensed the room exuded an odor of alcohol, tobacco, and something else I identified as his personal scent. I was a little dizzy from the fragrance, but my weakness was interrupted by another gunshot.

Lisiek was right. He was pointing the rifle at the prisoners. A sensation of horror and terrible nausea came over me; it was more disgust than hate. I was shaking all over and I knew I would never dare get his attention. So I entered the bedroom silently and left the tray on an enormous table which had a mirror in which the medals on his uniform shown.

I wanted to turn around to leave there, but I shuddered when I heard him whistle nonchalantly while pointing the rifle at his next victim, and I ran right into the door. He turned and looked at me with his enormous blue eyes, angrily holding the rifle in his hands. I was paralyzed for a few seconds, but then I couldn't help turning around to get out of the bedroom. When I got to the stairs, I heard, "Helen!" I stopped, hesitating over whether I should return, but in the end I went down the stairs, running until I got to the kitchen. Anya and Rebecca turned to look at me when they saw me enter so upset.

-What happened? – Anya asked, making a disapproving movement with her head.

-I don't feel very well, - I said while leaning my body against the wall.

She looked at me and must have seen that I looked very sick, because she admitted I was right.

-I'm going downstairs for a moment. –

Before I left the kitchen, I saw Rebecca look at me with concern.

In the basement, I walked from one side to another with my hands on my stomach. I wanted to throw up, but I'd eaten so little that it was almost impossible. Nonetheless, the nausea didn't hinder my ability to think.

I didn't regret having run out, although it might cause me to be killed. I was like everyone in that camp, and we were condemned. What difference did it make to die a day sooner or a day later?

It was so clear to me that I was going to die soon that a strange courage possessed me. Perhaps that bravery was what made me go upstairs again to continue working, even through I still had bad stomach pain. When I did, neither Anya nor Rebecca was there, but I preferred it that way because I wanted to be alone. I heard footsteps from the hallway, and an unmistakable voice that paralyzed me. Anya's voice echoed in response.

-Herr Kommandant, the girl you called to give you a manicure is waiting in the living room.

-Where's that bitch? – He asked in a serious but calm voice.

There was an awkward silence.

-She's gone down to the cellar for a moment. She said she wasn't feeling well, Mein Herr, - Anya answered him, assuming he was referring to me.

I heard a boom that echoed through the whole house, and it made me gulp.

-Tell that Jew rat to get to work instead of hiding from me, or I'll beat her to death.

I closed my eyes, frightened to hear him speak so angrily.

-And also tell her to bring me something to drink. Maybe she can learn to do something useful.

Anya's footsteps reverberated in the hallway, and I saw her peek into the kitchen.

-The Herr Kommandant said for you to bring him something to drink and … - she didn't know how to tell me the rest.

-Yes, - I answered in a faint voice.

After a few minutes, I timidly appeared at the living room door with a bottle of liquor. My legs trembled slightly as I held the tray. I knew that he was angry, and I was afraid he'd hit me. He'd restrain himself from doing it in front of other Germans, but he certainly wouldn't have any qualms in front of another prisoner.

Rebecca was filing his nails while he leaned comfortably in a chair, asking her questions that she answered. I felt envious that she could hold a conversation with that man. When he was near me, I was incapable of saying two coherent words in a row. He looked up in time to see that I was frozen in the doorway.

-Are you going to stay there all day? – He asked in a serious voice, ignoring what Rebecca was saying to him.

I moved forward and left the glass, the bottle, and ice on the table. I clearly saw his fists shaking with fury when I approached him. Rebecca had become quiet because it seemed that he was only paying attention to me. I hoped he would indicate to me that I could go. Fortunately, he did so without first having any violent reaction. As I walked out the door, I heard them resume their conversation.

Rebecca seemed to know how to treat him so that he wouldn't be aggressive around her. With me, totally the opposite occurred. I had a knack for angering him. I blamed myself for my own misfortune, but then I realized, even if I had the courage to speak to him like Rebecca, it doubtless wouldn't be fun to have to do it. The image of him shooting the rifle was something I couldn't erase from my mind. I also remembered how he'd whistled nonchalantly as if he were doing something routine. I doubted that man felt remorse for anything; he didn't feel it for killing nor did he feel it for mistreating me.


	7. Hoffnung

**This story is entirely fictional and inspired by Schindler's List. It contains violence and content related to the Holocaust, and could offend the sensibilities of those who read it. This fic does not support Nazism or any right-win movement.**

**This chapter is translated by Jenna Le (u/5386982/)**

* * *

In the villa, the days passed, as dark as usual. I tried to forget what my existence had become. I couldn't call it living to starve, work to exhaustion, and occasionally receive beatings. Nor did it seem that things were better in the work camp for the other Jews, who became increasingly weak and wounded. I was afraid from daybreak until nightfall. My heart said there was no hope, but I knew that it was something like hope that made me wake up every morning.

The only pleasant moments were those when Rebecca or Lisiek visited me. Lisiek was a very serious child, but Rebecca exuded optimism, and at times, she infected me with it.

This was one of those days when one of the two visited me. I spilled some soup on the floor, and I bent down to pick it up. When I got up, Lisiek, as usual, was staring at me from the door, but this time his face was very serious.

I gestured quietly to greet him.

-Helen, I need your help, - he said quickly in a quiet voice.

-With what?

-You have to climb to the roof with me.

I didn't want to abandon the kitchen because of what could happen if someone entered and didn't see me there, but Lisiek insisted, and I finally said I'd help him. I removed the soup from the burner before following him. We went outside, and he led me to a ladder that ascended to the roof. When I climbed up behind him, I was amazed because I could see the entire exterior of the villa as well as the whole work camp in the distance. Lisiek realized that I'd been distracted, and he called my name after clicking his tongue to get my attention. I looked up at him, finding him crouched in a part of the roof where there were many potatoes scattered on the ground.

-The Herr Kommandant sent me to take these potatoes down to the villa, - he began to explain, - but one of the bags has broken and I'm afraid that he'll get angry when he discovers it.

Deep down, I felt a bit annoyed that he'd called on me because a bag had broken, but then I remembered I was the first one to take the Herr Kommandant's business too seriously, so I began to help him.

I made a small basket from the broken bag, and put it on my lap to stop the potatoes I'd gathered. When we'd spent a minute at the task, Lisiek spoke.

-I'm so hungry that I'm finding this work hard. I look at them and my stomach won't stop making noises, - he said distressed, looking at the potatoes.

-So grab some. The Germans won't realize you've stolen them unless they catch you with them. They don't spend their time counting potatoes in bags. Not that they're not vile enough to do that, but because they don't have enough time. –

He paid attention to me, and I saw him put a couple of small potatoes in his pocket. While I observed him out of the corner of my eye, I heard the villa's front door open sharply. Lisiek and I ducked in unison, and were paralyzed. It closed with a slam after a few seconds.

We both slowly approached one of the roof's low walls to see who had gone out. I shuddered at seeing it was the Herr Kommandant, who distractedly stroked his hairline that was perfectly parted to the left, without knowing that someone was watching him from his roof. Lisiek withdrew as soon as he realized that it was he, but I didn't move. I saw him put on the SS cap and start walking down the stairs.

Lisiek gestured for me to get back from there, and I put myself someplace where he wouldn't discover us.

-He hasn't seen us, - I whispered – He's already gone. –

My gaze followed him the whole walk down the stairs. When he got to the part that bordered the camp, where there were some prisoners who worked there carrying goods for the soldiers, he stood still.

-Don't look at him! – Lisiek warned me, raising his voice more than usual. - Help me with the potatoes! –

I turned toward him and nodded, trying to look back down at the ground to find more rebellious potatoes. For some reason I didn't understand, my effort was in vain, and I immediately looked up again to watch him. He was standing in the exact same spot as before. Some prisoners passed by him with their heads down, more rapidly than usual. Right at the moment when a woman with a bundle passed by, he raised his hand from his belt and took out what I thought was a gun. My heart skipped a beat when he firmly pointed it at that woman. I didn't have time to look away. The sound of the gunshot pierced my ears, and I saw her lying down on the ground with her throat bleeding. I felt a pain in my chest so severe that I began to suspect I'd also been shot. All the potatoes I held on my lap fell to the ground.

-My God… - I whispered without even realizing.

I began to sigh and Lisiek approached me to see if I was crying. I wasn't, but I was more terrified than ever.

-I warned you not to look at him, - he said irritably.

When a few minutes passed and I was able to begin to move again, robot-like I once again helped him gather the potatoes that had fallen. I was sad and a feeling like fatigue invaded me. The fear squeezed my chest more strongly than ever.

A few minutes later, I was already in the kitchen slowly stirring the soup while I remembered the scene.

What had that woman done for him to shoot her? The answer was clear; she hadn't done anything. He'd killed her because she'd crossed his path at that moment. That was what our lives were worth. My life was no more than those men's whim. I'd suspected before that perhaps it would be over soon, suddenly, like the case of that woman. It may even be that she was lucky that it was so fast. That pained me a lot, but I didn't cry; I had no tears left.

Anya entered the kitchen and I ignored her, but it seemed it was one of the few times she really wanted to talk to me.

-Today Oskar Schindler is coming to dinner at the villa. I've been told that he's taken many prisoners to work in his factory. I've also been told that he treats them well and there are hardly any shortages among the people who work for him. – She was hoping for some type of reaction on my part, but I kept stirring the soup without saying anything. Finally she added something so that I'd speak. – Did you know? –

-No, - I answered. Despite having heard everything, I thought there was no longer anything good enough to interest me.

Anya continued talking, but I didn't hear another word she said. When she left, I decided to distract my mind because I knew that thinking too much would make me feel even worse. I tried to spend the hours of free time I had reading and perusing the Hebrew cookbook that I'd brought hidden the first day, and that had helped me a lot during that time. Later, when it began to get dark, I took care to keep busy making dinner.

That day was so distressing that I didn't even remember to make some excuse in order to avoid waiting on the table. As soon as Anya looked stressed, she made me serve the baked rabbit that I'd prepared.

Like many of the times I entered the room, no German paid attention to me, and I stayed still, waiting for the Herr Kommandant's order to approach the table. So I was quietly looking out of the corner of my eye at the man I'd seen shoot a woman that morning.

At the table, Herr Schindler, two more businessmen and three women who seemed of dubious reputation accompanied him. Herr Schindler was the only one who'd noticed my presence. When I looked at him timidly, he smiled discretely. One of the businessmen had a nose purple from drinking so much, and were it not for his eyes being opened, I would have sworn he were asleep. The other one looked bored by one of the women, who was grabbing his arm. The only one who seemed interested in the woman at his side was the Herr Kommandant. The young woman flirted with him, and I realize it was the same one in front of whom he'd hit me one night. She ran her hand down his chest, caressing his uniform sensually.

-Amon! You have such an important position in the SS and you're so young! – she praised while smiling. – All the SS commanders are very old and boring, but you, however, you're so attractive… - The woman stared at him and got him to smile, flattered.

-It's because I've been loyal to Nazism since I was very young. I'm not one of those who joined the movement when it succeeded. I was always aware that National Socialism was the solution for Germany. When I was only seventeen years old, I already joined all the paramilitary movements. At twenty-two I wanted to join the SS, and I had to flee Austria because the authorities were chasing me. – The Herr Kommandant laughed remembering the old times. – When I arrived in Germany, the SS accepted me, and my superiors were so impressed by my compliance to duty and by my strong political beliefs that I began to climb… -

-Yes, that's the story of why Amon is Hauptsturmführer so young, - interrupted the German businessman with the purple nose who seemed to not be too drunk to talk. – He was always a Nazi from head to toe. Now those who are new to enter the movement aren't half as faithful as him. –

The Herr Kommandant smiled from ear to ear proudly while the businessman raised his glass pretending to toast to him and saying: Wir kämpfen für Deutschkand!

The woman looked at him, more impressed than before, with her mouth and eyes wide open, while twisting her pearl necklace between her fingers. He noticed my presence and suddenly grabbed her hand while beginning to speak.

-Ladies and gentlemen, - he said, adopting an overly polite tone that bordered on irony. – May I present to you Helen? She's been here a few months and is now known for her cuisine and good behavior. –

Everyone at the table turned to look at me. I wasn't used to that attention, and with my head bowed and biting my lip, couldn't have looked more humiliated. The silence he'd created was interrupted by the voice of the Herr Kommandant's companion who, without a doubt, had noticed the bruises on my cheeks.

-From the look of her face, it looks like she's had a collision with the kitchen counter, - she said ingeniously with a chuckle.

-And she may well have another, this bitch, - he answered and he stared at me. – Yes, another. Right, Helen? –

I ignored the insults that no longer affected me, but I couldn't ignore his verbal threat. I couldn't do anything but swallow as I served dinner with great fortitude.

I had to return to the room several more times, but luckily I wasn't bothered.

When dinner ended and I started washing dishes, I heard a considerable number of officers enter the villa. All of a sudden, the boring gathering I'd witnessed became a party of noise, alcohol, broken glasses, and the laughing Germans that seemed to go along with it. They were still going when I finished cleaning, and I suspected I'd go to bed very late that day. Although I could have done so soon, I wouldn't have been able sleep with the racket, despite how tired I was.

Anya sent me down to the cellar because they wanted wine. I was happy about the order because I felt calmer in the cellar since the noise from upstairs was muffled. When I was there looking for bottles, not two minutes had passed when I heard someone coming down the stairs. The noise was from shoes, so I assumed it was Anya, but when I turned around, I found myself with someone less expected.

-Lisiek, - I said very surprised, - What are you doing here? – I asked very quietly.

-Helen, I know I already asked you for a favor this morning. But would you help me again? –

I nodded, but I became a little nervous.

-You know you can ask me for help whenever you want…have you come into the villa with permission? –

-I haven't come in with permission, but I'm working. The stains on the Herr Kommandant's bathtub didn't come out this morning, so I need something capable of removing them…and I can't with this… - he said pointing out a rag so dirty and old that it had changed color.

-All right, I'll help you, - I said softly. I knew very well how the Herr Kommandant reacted when the job wasn't well done, and I couldn't help feeling a little concerned for him.

He began to look into a bucket that had several cleaning utensils. I moved to the opposite side of the cellar to search for something that would serve his purpose. I found a brush with thick bristles.

-It will come out better with this than with that rag, Lisiek, - I said as I realized that someone was coming down the stairs again. When I had a chance to look up, I was shocked to see Oskar Schindler at the bottom with his arms crossed. I lowered my head to make a shy bow to him.

-Herr Direktor, - my voice sounded shaky and fragile. – I was just helping Lisiek to find something to clean the stains from the Herr Kommandant's bathtub. –

I approached Lisiek and put the brush in is hand.

-Go, please,- I begged in his ear.

-Pardon me, Herr Direktor, - Lisiek made several bows, that Schindler returned politely with a smile, before obeying me and leaving the cellar.

I hurried to hide the toilet and tub where I had to clean myself with the curtain.

You don't have to report to me, Helen. –

I was surprised that he knew my name. I went to get a bottle of wine, while he already held one in his hand, and he murmured, - You know who I am? –

He made me stop, taking the bottle I carried in my hands and checking it sideways with his. When he finished he looked directly at me with his green eyes and murmured, - I'm Schindler. –

He said it like a person who is very well known says his name, and evidently he was among the Jews for his good deeds.

When he was near me, I didn't feel comfortable at all although everyone said he was a good man. You could say that almost all my experiences with Germans had been bad. I moved away from him a bit, slightly nodding my head timidly.

-Of course. I have heard and you have been here before. – I moved toward a table to be able to open the bottle. He approached me and handed me a bar of chocolate.

I looked at him curiously, It was the first time a German had offered me food that was easy to digest.

- Take it. Why don't you keep this someplace? – he asked kindly.

I shook my head. I rejected it, not because I wasn't hungry, but because there were people who needed it more than me. I no longer doubted his intentions were good.

-I get extra food here. –

- Well, if you don't want to eat it, trade it. Or give it to Lisiek. Why not build yourself up? -

My gaze was lifting, little by little, from the cold floor of the cellar to the warm eyes of that man.

I accepted telling him how I was suffering; it was good to tell someone. All the Jews to whom I'd tried to talk said they had worse problems. The truth is that we all had our sad stories, and our own always seemed more horrible than that of whoever was speaking. I was sitting in the old cellar chair, while the security lights illuminated the work camp, making circles that filtered through the window.

-My first day here, he beat me because I threw out the bones from dinner. He came down to the basement at midnight and he asked me where they were. For his dogs, you understand. I said to him…I don't know how I say this. I never could say it now… I said to him…why are you beating me? He said, the reason I beat you now is because you ask why I beat you. –

I stuttered throughout the explanation without knowing how to speak of something that was so painful to me. I wondered if I were speaking too much, but, deep down, I trusted Herr Schindler. I could tell from his green eyes that he was affected by what I was telling him. On one hand, I felt better talking about it, and on the other, I felt badly because I had to relieve the horrible reality daily.

-I know your sufferings, Helen, – he said as if something stirred him inside.

I stayed there with a lost look, and shook my head.

-It doesn't matter, - I said in a soft voice. - I have accepted them. –

-Accepted them? – He asked with a strange note in his voice.

I nodded my head slightly. – I know one day he will kill me. -

-No, no, no, no, he won't kill you. –

-I know. I see things, - I protested. - We were on the roof, young Lisiek and I, and we saw the Herr Kommandant come out of the front door and down the steps by the patio right there below us and there on the steps he drew his gun and… - my heart filled with sadness at the memory of that scene and my eyes watered before I continued - …he shot a woman who was passing by. A woman carrying a bundle. Through the throat. Just a woman on her way somewhere. I don't know where. She was no fatter or thinner or slower or faster than anyone else and I couldn't guess what had she done. -

When I stopped speaking, I saw that Herr Schindler was crouching and looking at me with his enormous green eyes. They were full of warmth and understanding. That encouraged me to tell him what I thought and what I would never have said to any Jew.

-The more you see of the Herr Kommandant, the more you see there is no set rules that you can live by. You can't say to yourself, if I follow these rules, I will be safe. -

He interrupted me and what he said made my blood freeze.

-He won't shoot you because he enjoys you too much. He enjoys you so much he won't even let you wear the star. He doesn't want anyone else to know it's a Jew he's enjoying. He killed the woman from the steps because she meant nothing to him. She was one of a series, neither offending nor pleasing him. –

My mind went blank. It was hard to breath and swallow. I didn't want to believe those words. Perhaps it was just something that he said to me so I wouldn't suffer any more and I'd feel safe. There was nothing to indicate the Herr Kommandant enjoyed me in any way. He interrupted my thoughts by talking again.

-But you, Helen... –

He approached me to give me a kiss, but I pulled away trembling.

- Don't be afraid. It's not that kind of a kiss. –

He kissed my forehead. It was like one of those warm kisses my mother gave me before I went to sleep. It filled my heart and soul with warmth. I had to put my hand on my mouth to keep from sobbing. However, tears had already begun to fall.

-Thank you, - I whispered, feeling those words like I'd never had felt them.

After a minute, he suddenly pulled away from me and made me remember my work again.

-Right, the wine, - he muttered.

I left the bitter hope that man had transmitted to me to one side, and I followed him up the stairs with the two bottles. As I walked up, I wiped the tears with my sleeve and tried to appear like the same Helen as usual. Although, inside, I'd changed a bit. I now knew that perhaps all wasn't lost. Maybe there was a life for me after the war, maybe I might have a future.

I went into the living room and served the two men who remained in that, now silent, party. The Herr Kommandant had a lost look and only moved a bit when I approached him to fill his glass. He was so drunk that his hand was shaking. I disappeared from there as quickly as usual, and with thousands of thoughts filling my head.

That night it was hard for me to sleep. It wasn't the fault of those horrible lights that came from the work camp and filtered through the cellar window that was no longer filled with snow. It was all the thoughts I had in my mind.

That conversation with Schindler had made me stronger. I knew that I had to endure until the end. It was impossible to find happiness there, but surely there would be a place where I could find it after the war. It would be like a second life, and I would recover all the dreams I had when I was free, before the ghetto, before the war, when I had a family and I could allow myself the luxury of thinking about something more than survival.

I remembered those youthful dreams. I always wanted to study or learn some trade. I wanted to be able to return to practicing my religion without them insulting me again for doing so. I also wanted to find a man who loved me, love had always been very important to me. Now it would be more so if in the future I couldn't be with my family, perhaps I'd lost everything in the war. My heart began to pound strongly, and I didn't know why.

I shook my head, thinking that I'd gone too far. Perhaps it wasn't good for me to have so much hope. There was still the possibility that my life would end before the war. Now I had nothing, and I couldn't think of anything I could end up having, because it made me sadder. However, I needn't discard the other possibility that the war would end and I'd continue living.

There was something else that bothered me and that was going round in my head. It was the words the Herr Direktor had said about the Herr Kommandant. They didn't make any sense to me, and I thought he'd exaggerated them. It was impossible he enjoyed me if he beat me, humiliated me, and insulted me. Perhaps he just liked me better than the others, and that didn't even seem possible to me. I had always thought he hated me, but he'd never threatened to kill me like he had done to others. Would him liking me help me stay alive? I shuddered. I didn't want any type of relationship with that man, neither good nor bad.

However, I had the impression that Herr Schindler had tried to give another significance to his words. That made me very nervous, but I calmed myself thinking SS men weren't physically attracted to Jews because they were people who had received a political education and who had studied all that fascist propaganda that we were an inferior race and they were very superior. They were taught that any relationship with us was harmful to them. But, deep down, I knew this wasn't entirely true. Hadn't I heard rumors that the SS had raped women in the ghetto? A chill ran down my spine and an unpleasant image popped into my head.

That night I slept in fear, like all the ones I'd passed there before. But the hope that Herr Schindler gave me made me able to do so without nightmares. I knew he was a good man, and that it mattered to him what we suffered. If there were more men like him, I knew that the Jews would be able to stop suffering.


	8. Goeths Albtraum

**This story is entirely fictional and inspired by Schindler's List. It contains violence and content related to the Holocaust, and could offend the sensibilities of those who read it. This fic does not support Nazism or any right-win movement.**

**This chapter is translated by Jenna Le (u/5386982/)**

* * *

When I woke up that night, everything was dark, and although I didn't see anything, I felt my head spinning. My whole body was sweating, and there was a strange smell in the room. That smell wasn't new to me, it was as if I already knew it. I didn't know why, but it made me feel violent. I thought perhaps drinking so much had made me feel sick, although I knew that never happened despite my liver problems. All the confusion in my head turned into fear, without me understanding why. I reached toward the small bedside table to grab the gun I always left lying there, but I realized that there was something on top of me that kept me from moving.

When I touched it to see what it was and discovered it was a woman, I felt very upset. I didn't like it when bitches I went to bed with stayed to sleep with me. I wanted to grab her to take her off of me, but my fingers tangled in her hair. It was curly and soft. When I went down further and grabbed her by the arm, I felt her skin was as cold as ice and that she was also very thin. She shuddered when I touched her, as if she were very afraid. I was paralyzed.  
My heart raced and I realized I was practically drenched in sweat. I still felt very violent and strange at the same time. I wished it weren't dark and that I were able to see her. Her eyes and her hair black as night, her skin white as snow. Yes, that same snow that was at her feet the first time I saw her.

…dunkle Augen, schwarzes Haar, weisse Haut, die jüdische Schneewittchen.

No, I couldn't think like that. That made no sense. That went against all my ideals. I had to kill her. My duty was to kill her.

It was as if something had exploded inside of me with that thought. I pounced on her and I found myself grabbing her neck with both hands. I pressed. Soon she wouldn't be a problem; soon she'd stop breathing. She didn't defend herself, and for some reason that made me feel bad.

A voice inside my head encouraged me: Kill her, kill her, kill her. But it was harder and harder for me to squeeze that thin neck.

When she felt me freeing her, she struggled for the first time. It was useless to think I could kill her, so I decided to hurt her to make her quiet. I raised my hand to hit her, but before I could do so, she scraped my face while trying to fight. I swallowed and began to tremble. Part of the fury I felt disappeared upon feeling that she'd touched me. I liked that she touched me. No, it wasn't something exclusively sexual. It was something weird, strange, that made me feel good and that I couldn't exactly define.

Finally I ended up lowering my arm. I grabbed both her wrists and put them at the head of the bed. I leaned forward until my body was completely on top of hers. She trembled and sighed. To hear and feel her breath made me even more nervous.

It wasn't like alcohol, power, sex or shooting. Those kinds of things made me forget my loneliness, but didn't replace it with another feeling. However, caressing her not only made me forget my loneliness, it awakened in me quite the opposite, a sense of satisfaction.

-I know what you want…I know what you're looking for. - I knew very well that if I felt this way, it was because that bitch was teasing me. I didn't know how to threaten her to make her stop. – If I give you what you're looking for, you'd wish you were dead…I…-

The words stuttered from my lips. She'd started to sob and struggled to get free. I didn't want her to go without touching her one last time.

-Oh Helen, Helen… - The words escaped from my mouth while I gently placed my huge hands on her weak and cold wrists. – Tell me something. You're always so quiet. I'd love to hear your voice. –

She didn't say a word. I shook her a bit to make her do what I'd ordered. In doing so, I noticed her breath quickened, grazing my neck. I lowered my head. I needed to bring my lips and hers together. I needed to kiss her. I got closer, I got closer, and I did it a thousand times, but our mouths never met. I also stopped feeling her body underneath mine. I tried desperately to find her, but she'd disappeared. Little by little the darkness was replaced by light.  
I was lying in bed, but the blinding sun filtered through the open windows leading to the balcony. The curtains moved slightly due to the cold air coming into the room. I suddenly turned toward the other side of the bed, but there was nobody there. No woman of any kind. It had all been a dream, a dream or perhaps a nightmare.

The clock on the table indicated to me with its noisy hands that I'd slept more than I should. I got up very grumpily, sweaty and with somewhat of a headache. Thinking the only thing to relieve myself would be with a cold shower, I went into the bathroom.

When I finished shaving and combing my hair, I went to put on my uniform. I thought I would be calmer, but images from the dream were going round in my head. I convinced myself that I needed to concentrate on my work and forget that bad night. I don't even remember who or what I dreamed about.

A voice inside my head spoke. _Yes, you remember._

Dazed, I passed my hands over my face and went out onto the balcony. Leaning on the windowsill was a half empty bottle of vodka. Surely it had been left there, forgotten from yesterday's party. I picked it up and brought it to my lips. When I began to drink, I knew that was exactly what I needed to forget those strange thoughts.

I observed the concentration camp from there. That vast expanse of barracks and snow surrounded by the barbed wire and electrified fences. Prisoners working in some smoky factories adjacent to the camp were visible in the distance. They ran from one side of the camp to the other, quietly passing between the uniformed soldiers.

They know what will happen to them if they stay put while I'm here. I smiled while thinking that.

I took another swig from the bottle and heard as one of my comrades yelled in a menacing German in the distance. I looked in the direction of the voice. It was a soldier who wasn't very far from the fence, bellowing at a prisoner who was lying on the ground and not moving.

-Damn it…Useless, shoot him, - I cursed under my breath.

The screams intensified and the prisoner stayed in the same position. I left the bottle on the ground, and looked at both sides of the balcony for the rifle I always had leaning there. When I found it, I loaded it to my shoulder and I began to acquire the target. I felt very proud that I hardly ever missed with a gun in my hands. When I had the victim's head in my sites, the soldier who'd tried to get him up disconcerted me by getting a little closer to him.

-What are you doing? Get away from him unless you want me to shoot you…- I grumbled again.

The soldier kicked the snow, irritated that he hadn't achieved his goal. I don't know why, but the snow made me remember that damn dream again. Now my hands trembled, and I nervously wiped the sweat from my forehead. I aimed again, wishing to hit the mark, but my pulse was so nervous that I missed the shot. The soldier howled because the bullet had almost pierced his leg. When I looked for the prisoner, he'd already gotten up and disappeared among many others with the same striped uniform.

I was furious at having lost sight of him. I wanted to go down below and kill him with my own hands. That wasn't the worst part. The worst part was that I knew what had distracted me, or rather who.

I left the rifle leaning against the windowsill, grabbed the bottle again, and entering the room, smashed it against the wall. The beige wall faded and glass scattered all over the floor with its characteristic noise.

I spun from one side to the other while my boots hammered the ground.

I felt ashamed to think that now I understood all the anti-Semitic propaganda they'd given me in the Party. It said the Jews looked a lot like people, and sometimes it was difficult to establish the difference. Why did I feel so confused now?4

No, I wasn't completely confused. I was only confused about…her.

I thought she was bringing me too many problems. How hard would it have been for me to pick one of the many Jews who were in the line and claimed they had experience? Surely if I hadn't picked her, she's already be dead.

I remembered the moment I saw her. She was very thin and trembling from the cold. It was perhaps one of the few times I'd seen her tremble from cold. She looked like one of those weak prisoners who died within a few days of arriving at the work camp, but nonetheless, I found her incredibly beautiful.  
But what do I care whether or not she dies? At the end of the day, death is the fate of all Jews.

Those thoughts didn't seem right to me, and I began to scare myself. Without a doubt, something was happening to make me feel this way. I'd read in SS propaganda reports that some Jews, although they didn't seem dangerous, utilized magic against their adversaries. I'd been going around in circles about this for two weeks. What I felt for her was most likely something provoked by a foreign magic. Something that was in my head and wouldn't go away even though I tried.

She's attacking me. She's trying to confuse me. Yes, without a doubt, it's all her fault.

I clenched my fists. I felt rage and hatred. Testosterone was burning in my veins. When I looked at myself in the mirror, I had in my room, I realized that my reflection made me afraid of myself.

Suddenly I put on my uniform jacket and grabbed the gun that was on top of the bedside table to put it in the leather holster. It took me a little while to button the buttons, and I didn't even bother to put on the insignias. I was already heading down the stairs.

Coming down the last step, I saw that she was down the hallway. She'd heard me coming down the stairs and had already put the breakfast on the dining room table to avoid having to encounter me. Now she was heading to the kitchen unpunished.

Clever girl…but today you're not going to escape me.

I entered the dining room and the delicious smell of breakfast intoxicated me. The radio was turned on, and the Reich Minister was giving a speech about the war. I paid no attention to anything he said as I walked toward the table to inspect that Jew's work. As always, everything was perfectly clean and the breakfast was perfectly arrayed and prepared. My stomach rumbled and, in that moment, I almost forgot the real reason I was looking at it. To find something lacking.

After looking for two minutes, I didn't find anything. I knew that I'd have to make up something, perhaps that it was cold or didn't taste good. It wasn't the first time I'd done that. I sighed picking up the dish of eggs that I loved to eat so much every morning.

I didn't bother to be quiet while walking with long strides toward the kitchen. I didn't care that she'd heard me coming and realized what was awaiting her. But when I'd almost approached the light emanating from the room, something stopped me in my tracks. I heard her voice. Yes, without a doubt it was her voice that I'd longed to hear so much while I was sleeping.

Her voice left me standing still, but I recovered right away. I took another step in order to see whom she was talking to. She was with someone, but that person didn't speak.

One of the Jews who came to give me manicures was at her side while she read a book. The two hadn't seen me. One was distracted reading, and the other was distracted listening and looking at her. When I stopped being enthralled by the sound of her voice and paid attention to what was being said, the hairs on my neck stood on end. They were speaking that horrible language those rats spoke. They were speaking Hebrew.

I burst into the kitchen and, before she realized that I was there, threw the plate I carried in my hand at the sink. It broke in a thousand pieces, and the food stained the walls of the kitchen. She winced at the noise and abruptly stepped aside. The other prisoner took a few steps backward, looking scared.

-Get out, - I said tersely, addressing her first so she'd leave us alone.

Then I looked at my prey. She had her head bowed so low that I couldn't see her eyes, but I could see her black, curly hair, part of which was pulled back with a hairpin. From one of her trembling hands dangled the book I'd seen her read.

I took a step forward and took it out of her hands without any effort. I examined it, holding it between my fingers as if it were something repugnant. When I opened it, I saw it was full of strange signs that weren't consistent with the Latin alphabet.

-What's this? – I said in a dangerously soft voice, holding the book aloft.

She lifted her head a bit, and I could see her lips trembling but, as always, silence was the response.

-I know what this is, - I said, completely sure of myself. Now I'd seen everything clearly. – It's a fucking book of Jewish spells. Right? - I said while moving a step toward her. - It's with this that you do all your…magic. Right? –

She was lost in thought as if she hadn't heard anything I'd said. But a second later, I thought I saw her eyes moving in confusion. I couldn't see more because, without realizing, I'd already pushed her against the wall violently. The thud of her frail body crashing was interrupted by a desperate whisper.

-Herr Kommandant… - said a scared voice.

I looked in disgust toward where it came from, and realized the prisoner who'd been there at the beginning had stayed and disobeyed me. Her wide, light eyes glistened with tears. It made me want to hit her, too, for interrupting my fit of violence.

-Herr…It's just a cookbook…I know how to read Hebrew, and… -

-I told you to get out of here. Leave now or you'll regret it. – The threat sounded very real without me having to make much effort.

-Please…listen to me…I beg you…it's a cookbook…I'm telling you the truth. –

-Nobody asked you, Jew, - I said very irritated, turning directly toward her this time.

She pleaded with her eyes, but I didn't feel any kind of compassion. On the contrary, upon realizing that she was disobeying me again, my anger toward her grew.

-Out, - I repeated again looking at her with contempt.

-Herr…listen to me… - she implored me.

It's over. I took out my gun from my holster and aimed at her. She clearly heard the 'click" from the release of the safety.

-I'll accompany you out, - I said coldly, giving significance to my words.

She lowered her head, knowing what was awaiting her. She'd been asking for it. I didn't know if it was worse that she'd ignored an order several times in a row or that she'd defended her. Maybe the latter. When I went to open the back door to the kitchen to take her to the garden and execute her there, I heard something that stopped me in my tracks. It was her voice.

-Kill me. It was my fault, - she said clearly.

I turned suddenly because I couldn't quite believe she'd spoken. She was leaning against the wall where I'd pushed her and, to my surprise, she wasn't crying or trembling. Although she didn't make eye contact, she had her head lifted up more than usual. It was the first time I'd seen her so determined and serene.

-Did that mean she didn't care if I killed her, or that she'd assumed I was going to do it anyway?

I felt compassion for her, and it was as if something had gotten into my body and made me warm. My heart beat in confusion; it seemed it wasn't used to this type of feeling. I blinked a few times and swallowed.

When I left that strange lethargy, I realized I'd lowered the gun. I put it away in my holster, and looked again at the prisoner who was waiting in front of the back door for me to lead her outside. I moved forward and opened it. Grabbing her by the neck, I abruptly threw her outside and turned to close the door.

I sighed and walked toward the subject that had brought me there in the first place. When we were face to face, I realized that she didn't seem as resolved as before. A tear glistened in her eyes, and now she trembled a bit. However, she didn't seem as scared as other times. I don't know why that made me think that she was provoking me or challenging me to see how far I would go. I wanted to say something threatening like, "Don't worry, there'll be time to kill you, bitch," or "A shot to the neck is too much mercy for you." But, before realizing it, I'd been hypnotized by the shape of her red lips and black eyes contrasting with her white skin.

Images of the dream I'd had came to my mind and I felt disgusted with myself. I raised my fist and hit her with all my strength…

Satisfied, I walked back down the hallway with the book in my hand. I was talking to myself.

I did well. I've always been faithful to the ideals of the Party. In the SS, they taught me that respecting them was almost like a religion. Arisches Blut soll nicht untergehen!

With my head full of those thoughts that had been instilled in me many years before, I didn't notice that my steps had taken me to the living room. I looked around me and saw that there was a fire burning in the fireplace. I walked over and threw in the book. When it fell, it opened, and I could see how the ink melted and those strange symbols disappeared. I watched the book burn and thought that my problems had burned with it.


End file.
